


With Justice in our Hands

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fantasizing, Identity Porn, M/M, Madeleine Era, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, javert pulls a marius and is creepy about valjean's handkerchief, seriously really only works with crowe!javert, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Madeleine rushes from his office during his first meeting with Javert, Javert picks up the handkerchief he dropped and forgets to give it back to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Justice in our Hands

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a "what if this happened" and then a "someone write it for me" and then a "ok, i'll write it"
> 
> icarus said i should post it here and therefore should bear the blame for all of this.

“Monsieur Madeleine! Monsieur le Maire!”

Javert jumped as he heard the cry from the street below them; his face contorted into an annoyed grimace as the mayor hurried from the room, and Javert wished their first meeting hadn’t been cut short. He followed Madeleine, but Madeleine was out in the street before Javert had even finished descending the stairs.

It was at the bottom of these stairs that a flash of white fabric — easy to see against the worn wood of the steps — caught his eye.

It was a small handkerchief with a neatly embroidered M on the corner; it was clean, but not overly ornate. Javert shoved it quickly in his pocket — next to the rosary Madeleine had shown him before they were interrupted — and hurried after the mayor into the street.

* * *

When Javert returned to his rooms that evening, he had forgotten about both the handkerchief and the rosary. Only when he was undressing did he notice them. He pulled the rosary out first, and eyed it more carefully; it was of fine quality, and Javert could see why Madeleine’s factory had been so successful. He set it carefully on his desk before he pulled out the handkerchief.

It must have been Madeleine’s; its simplicity and cleanliness seemed to fit Madeleine’s personality, or at least the personality Javert had gleaned through overheard conversations and their short meeting. Without thinking, he pressed the cloth to his face and inhaled deeply. The smell was subtle, but definitely there; it smelled clean, like soap, but with a hint of pine behind it. Javert decided this was also what Madeleine smelled like, before pushing the thought from his mind. He should not be standing around dumbly in his apartment considering the way the mayor smelled.

He set down the handkerchief and finished undressing before climbing slowly into bed. Despite the late hour, Javert felt far from sleep; it had been a long day. Not only had he just arrived in Montreuil-sur-Mer, but he had met with Madeleine and witnessed the incident with the cart. The way Madeleine’s muscles strained under the weight of the cart reminded him of that convict from Toulon, 24601, but surely it could not be the same man. Madeleine was well-mannered, polite; 24601 had rarely spoken, and when he did, it was not with Madeleine’s grace.

Javert stood up from his bed and retrieved the handkerchief, smelling it deeply again. Yes, surely this could not be the handkerchief of that convict. It was disrespectful to even consider the notion; Madeleine had been praised even in Paris, and surely his superiors could not have been wrong about the man! He seemed to have genuinely done a lot of good for the small town, something 24601 could never have done. Men like that did not — could not — change.

Javert lay back down, the handkerchief still in his hand. He thought about his meeting with Madeleine earlier that day, the small smiles he had given him, the gift of the rosary (if it was a gift? Perhaps Madeleine had simply forgotten about it in the confusion). He thought about his muscles straining — that strength —

He started, realizing he had begun to harden merely at the thought of the man. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to push him out of his mind, but it was proving increasingly difficult.

His free hand pushed up his nightshirt and he took himself in hand, letting his hand slide gently along his length. He could hear his breath becoming shallow, the cool fabric of the handkerchief still in his other hand.

And oh, what a man! Javert let his hand tighten around his cock as he began slowly increasing his speed, gently biting at his lower lip. Madeleine was remarkably strong — stronger than any man he had ever met (save that one, but Javert would not think of that convict, not now) —  and yet he seemed to use his strength only for good. And Javert had come to this town, a new inspector, and had the insolence to suggest the mayor was an ex-convict on the run from the law? No, that was just not acceptable!

What if the mayor had been slightly less forgiving of his mistake? What if, after his aborted accusation, Madeleine had requested to speak with him back in his office?

Javert’s breathing grew even more rapid, his hand moving quicker, his other hand grasping the handkerchief and letting it slide through his fingers, feeling the soft fabric against the roughness of his own skin.

What if the mayor had used that unknowable strength to punish Javert for his disrespect? Perhaps he would want to impress upon Javert just how low he was compared to him — just an inspector, and still fairly new at it, compared to a mayor and successful business owner — perhaps he would force Javert to his knees —

He could feel his orgasm building within him as he imagined himself on his knees before Madeleine. He was all but thrusting up to meet his hand, and had his thoughts not been elsewhere, he would have been concerned about waking up the building’s other occupants with his laboured breathing. He brought the handkerchief up to his face, and tried to inhale as deeply as he could, despite his rapid breaths. He let it overpower him, consume him, as he thought of Madeleine. He considered briefly running the handkerchief along his length, but no, he could not sully it in such a way; he had already shown the mayor enough disrespect in one day.

Javert imagined Madeleine with his hand in Javert’s short-cropped hair, pushing him toward himself. He would make Javert take all of him in his mouth, make him know just how low he was, and how far he could still fall if he continued to disrespect the mayor’s authority in such a way. Yes, he would hold Javert there, with the taste heavy on his tongue — his scent reminding him exactly who he was servicing —

Javert inhaled again as he came, spilling over his hand and his nightshirt. He lay there a moment, trying to regain his breath, before delicately setting Madeleine’s handkerchief on his nightstand.

He rose to his feet once he trusted himself to stand on them and found an old cloth of his own to clean himself with, pulling off the dirtied nightshirt.

When he returned to bed, he grabbed the handkerchief again, and kept it pressed close to him through the night.


End file.
